The dorm room reeked of cheap whiskey and sweat after the frat party. Jake, my swim-team captain roommate with abs that could sell calendars, slammed the deck on the floor between our beds. 'Strip poker, but with a twist, college boy. Get a hard-on, you suck the other guy off. Deal?' His grin was pure male-model mischief.
I laughed, already buzzed. 'You wish, pretty boy. My poker face eats models for breakfast.' Cards flew. Shirts hit the floor first—his sculpted chest gleaming, mine just average. 'Looking soft so far,' he teased, eyes flicking down. 'Keep talking, Captain Speedo. I'll have you naked and begging.' Pants followed, then boxers. We sat there in nothing but tension and half-smiles, cocks twitching under the dare.
Last hand. I lost. Blood rushed south; my cock sprang hard, throbbing. 'Fuck,' I muttered, face hot. Jake leaned back, his own length already stiff and dripping. 'Rules, roomie. On your knees. Show me that horny mouth.'
I dropped, heart pounding, the air thick with sweat. His cock was rock-hard, veined, and I wrapped my lips around it, tasting salt. He groaned, 'That's it—wet and dripping just like you wanted.' I bobbed, tongue swirling, while my hand gripped his ass, pulling him deeper. He panted, 'Harder, make me come down your throat.' The blowjob turned frantic; I was horny as hell, my own cock leaking, ass clenching like a tight wet pussy begging for more.
Jake thrust, sweating, 'You love this, don't you? Take every drop.' He came hard, cum flooding my mouth in hot pulses. I swallowed, panting, the room spinning with lust. But he wasn't done—flipping me, his fingers teasing my dripping entrance. 'Round two, loser. This ass is mine next.' The night exploded from there, bodies grinding, every filthy word fueling the fire.
Want to know how it ends?
This is just the opening chapter. Continue the saga — or write a steamy tale starring you.